Set In Stone
by eena-angel2001
Summary: A debt is repaid, with startling consequences . . . HP/LOTR crossover


Title: Set In Stone  
  
Author: eena_angel2001  
  
Email: igrewal@sfu.ca or eena_angel@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: R  
  
Category: HP/LOTR.  
  
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns LOTR. Rowlings owns HP.  
  
Spoilers: GOF for HP, ROTK for LOTR.  
  
Summary: A debt is repaid, with startling repercussions . . .  
  
Notes: This takes place in the future for HP, an AU fic. Harry and the crew are all twenty.  
  
Prologue  
  
This wasn't going to end well for them. She felt it, right down in her bones. This battle would not end in victory for them. Today, the Trio would die.  
  
Hermione Granger grimaced as a shooting pain traveled up her leg. She had narrowly avoided a killing blow from a Death Eater, taking it instead in her right leg. She now had a limp; the Death Eater was now dead. Lucky bastard.  
  
She gritted her teeth, licking her lips as she stared hard at her foe. A mingled taste of dirt, sweat, and blood met her tongue, but she didn't even flinch. Wouldn't to let anything else distract her. It could prove to be deadly for her and her friends.  
  
She tightened her grip on her wand, feeling a bit of strength enter her as she felt the hardness of her wand. It calmed her nerves, reminded her of who she was and where she was. She might not win this fight, but that didn't mean the other side would win as well. What better way to go out than to go out with a bang? And to take your enemies with you?  
  
Laughter wafted over to her, causing her to stew silently for a second. The bastards were laughing now. They had to be overconfident. They knew that their enemies had not much left in them and they were rejoicing. But they underestimated Hermione and her friends, as they always did. They would not die without killing their enemies. The war would end tonight, once and for all.  
  
"You all right there Hermione?"  
  
She barely nodded at Ron's question, not wasting any energy on talking. She needed all her strength for this. Her eyes never wavered from the eyes of her foe, keeping them locked with her own. She didn't have to look to see where her friends were, she could feel them there. Ron was off to her left side, standing in line with her. Harry was in front of them both, always the leader of their group.  
  
She didn't have to look to know their faces held the same expression as hers: fierce determination. All around them, fires and screams filled the night sky. Behind their enemies, they could see buildings burning in the distance. Explosions were frequent and chaos ruled the night. Only one thing was certain though. The Aurors were winning.  
  
The Death Eaters were piled around them, dead as dead could be. They had been ill-quipped in the long run, not a real match for the new breed of Aurors, trained by Sirius Black and Dumbledore himself. They in fact, had stood no chance, quickly falling to the wands of the Aurors. All except three, who Hermione stood facing now.  
  
There was Peter Pettigrew, cowering at the very edge of the clearing, trying to distance himself from the coming battle. He was mumbling to himself in a frightened manner, something she could not quite discern. Harry kept shooting the wizard death glares, but he would do nothing unless Peter provoked him. He had done so back in third year at Hogwarts and he would hold to that now. The man was too pathetic to be killed in cold blood.  
  
Lucius Malfoy was the other Death Eater there, standing arrogantly in a standoff with the trio. Hermione was surprised that he could still be so proud, what with his own son turning on him and his Lord. Draco Malfoy had done a decent thing for the first time in his life, and joined the Aurors in their quest to stamp out the Dark Wizards. She hoped he was still alive out there. Prat or not in school, he had been a great ally in this fight. She hoped he lived to see his bravery rewarded.  
  
And finally, there was Him. He-Who-Shall-Not- Aw, screw it. She was tired of dancing around the bastard like he scared her, like he was something special. Lord Voldemort was no different than the rest of them. He could die just as easily as they could. And she would see that he did. The memory of her parents was fresh on her mind, one of the first victims of the Dark Mark. She would see Voldemort dead for that.  
  
They were laughing again, like they had won. She really to rip out their throats, but restrained herself. She was weak from the battles of the night. She could not waste energy lashing out in anger. No, she had to be reserved, to do what she could and make sure it worked. Nothing could be wasted, she was at her end here. As were her friends and her enemies. The night had taken much out of them, and now, this was it.  
  
"You're going to die," she whispered softly. But the words carried despite her soft tones, wafting over to her enemies. Her words were simply stated, carrying no malice or ire. It was like she was rattling off one of the many solid facts she had learned during school. Like it was set in stone.  
  
Lucius sneered at her, anger clouding over his features as he glared at her.  
  
"Filthy Mudblood," he spat.  
  
"That Mudblood killed over twenty of your men," Harry snapped at the man. "So I'd watch what you say to her. Wouldn't want to make the girl angry would you Lucius? She might just kill you."  
  
"She doesn't have the-"  
  
"You know she does," Ron cut off. "You know we all do. You're going to die-"  
  
"And so are you," Lord Voldemort cut off, his snaky voice slithering over their skin. "Do you think death means anything to me? I will not be that easily banished. I have more in me than just that."  
  
Hermione swallowed hard, her eyes never wavering. But inside, her stomach churned at his words. It was true, death had not stopped him in the past. They had no reason to believe it would this time. They could kill him, but he didn't have to stay dead. That was the thing with Voldemort, he would not die as easily as some would wish.  
  
"But you'll be weak for some time," Harry spat out. "And by then, Dumbledore will have legions of new Aurors waiting on you. You'll never be able to succeed Voldemort. You'll only be doomed to die again and again, your dream always just beyond your reach."  
  
"At least I'll have the joy of knowing you're dead," the Dark Lord spat at him. "You my dear boy, will not be coming back no matter what. And in the end, for the battle between you and I, it will always be known that Lord Voldemort was the end of Harry Potter."  
  
Harry's jaw tightened, but he never waved in his stance. None of them did. No, they held their ground, wands ready to belt out spells at any moment. Hermione lifted her chin, smirking at the two in front of them.  
  
"But little Lucius won't be coming back," she sneered. "And that's good enough for me."  
  
"Then what are we waiting for?" Lucius growled. "Let's get this over with."  
  
"We've been ready for awhile," Ron snorted. "You lot have just been wasting time, flapping your gums."  
  
Lucius growled more audibly at that, face contorting into a mask of rage. Voldemort straightened, his wand pointed in their direction.  
  
"Wormtail!" he barked, never turning to see Peter. "Get over here!"  
  
There was no response, save for an increase in Peter's mumblings. Voldemort's eyes flickered with annoyance, his head turning slightly in Peter's direction.  
  
"Wormtail," the Dark Lord spit out through clenched teeth. "Get over here, now."  
  
But Peter remained where he was, hunched over and mumbling to himself. Hermione spared him a glance, noting with alarm the paper in his hand.  
  
"What is he doing Harry?" she shouted suddenly, all her attention on Peter. All combatants faltered for a moment, their attention drawn to the pitiful wizard on the outskirts of the clearing in which they stood. Peter stopped mumbling abruptly, raising his head and finding Harry's eyes with his own.  
  
"Now the debt is paid," Peter spoke clearly. Hermione frowned in confusion. What debt?  
  
"You filthy little-" Voldemort turned with his wand on Peter, fury clouding over the Lord's face. Harry took the time and pounced.  
  
"Avada-"  
  
Lucius lifted his own wand, Ron and Hermione following suit. The starts of many curses filled the night sky, drowned out by Peter's sudden yell.  
  
"AND SO MOTE IT BE!!!!!"  
  
And there was stillness. All the curses were stopped, the endings on the tongues of their originators. All fighters were stunned still, unable to move for the life of them. Peter merely looked sadly between them all, stopping at Harry.  
  
"I'll be in Azkaban if you ever come back," Peter muttered unhappily. "Kill him once you're there. The three of you can do it. You'll need help, there will be some there. Don't worry too much, I have a feeling you'll win."  
  
"Wormtail . . ." Voldemort was starting to move again, but it was in vain. For in the next instant, a blinding flash washed over the entire lot of them. Hermione felt her feet give out from under her, knocking her to the ground. She heard a grunt behind her, knowing Ron had been knocked down too. She clutched her wand to her chest, not wanting to lose it in the storm she knew was coming. Peter had done something, done something very big.  
  
Wind picked up next, whipped her hair all around her head until she could not see anymore. She crawled over to where she heard her friends shouting, clasping Harry's hand in her own. She tried to communicate with him, but the wind carried away all of her words. Ron made his way to them, covering both their heads with his arms.  
  
She didn't quite know what happened next, knowing only she missed it because she shut her eyes when dirt flew up into her face. She tried to huddle under the cover of her friends, feeling safe with them until she felt a pull on her leg. She yelped, raising her leg to see what was there. A fine silver thread had entwined itself around her ankle. She looked over to her friends, seeing they were in the same position. She looked up to the sky, seeing where the threads led.  
  
Her mouth dropped wide, no sound coming out. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of giant hole in the sky, the wind pushing all things into it. She saw two more threads than the ones of her and her friends, not having to look to see they held onto Voldemort and Lucius.  
  
The tugging began after that, causing her more panic than before. She had no way of stopping it, so she gave up. She went still, holding onto her friends and letting Peter's spell do as it would.  
  
And then there was darkness.  
  
*****  
  
She awoke with a start, a chill washing over her. In her mind's eyes, she still saw the images from her dreams. Hellish things she saw, people fighting and dying for miles around. And five, five distanced from all the others, to play out their own war. Hate existed on one side, vengeance on the other. But she felt danger only from the hate, and nothing but comfort from the vengeance.  
  
A hand on her arm now. Her husband, woken by her sudden jolt from bed. His eyes took in her form worriedly, one hand cupping her cheek as he looked into her eyes.  
  
"Tell me," he asked simply. She took in a deep breath, feeling comfort in his presence. She closed her eyes, not surprised to feel tears trail down her cheeks. When she opened her eyes, calm had returned and she was able to tell her husband exactly what she had seen.  
  
"Trouble comes," she answered. "From another place. It brings hate and destruction. Dark times I see ahead my husband, very dark. We must act, now."  
  
"How?" he demanded.  
  
"I know not," she confessed. "But we must alert all our friends in this land. Five strangers have now come into our lands, three friends, of this I have no doubt. Two males and a female, of very young age."  
  
"And the others?"  
  
"Evil," she replied faintly. "Nothing but evil my husband."  
  
Determination took over her features at that. Arwen turned her eyes to her husband, King Aragorn of Gondor, resolution on her face.  
  
"We must find the three. Now."  
  
***** 


End file.
